


Neville Longbottom and the Rebel Uprising

by lxpus23



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Blood and Violence, Book 7: Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, Collaboration, Dumbledore's Army, Gen, Hogwarts Seventh Year, Missing Scene, Rebellion, Second War with Voldemort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-30
Updated: 2017-12-30
Packaged: 2019-02-24 02:00:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,002
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13203357
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lxpus23/pseuds/lxpus23
Summary: It’s Neville Longbottom’s seventh year attending Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, but nothing is the same. Harry, Ron and Hermione are missing, and, of course, the gossip is spreading. They are trying to defeat He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named and end the ongoing war. When Snape takes over as Headmaster of Hogwarts, and appointing known Deatheaters as teachers, it becomes abundantly clear to Neville that he and the other students are in no position to wait for Harry to rescue them. They needed to start an uprising, they needed to rebel. And with their main fighter out of the picture, Neville needs to pick up the sword.Neville’s story will be told in four separate archs.





	1. The Beginning - Delavar

**Author's Note:**

> This story is written as a collaborative fanfiction project. The group consist of four members, with different experiences with both the Harry Potter universe and Creative Writing in general. We have written a chapter each, our names are found in the chapter-name. All of us are first-year teacher students from Sweden. Feel free to add kudos and leave a comment. We appreciate constructive criticism :)

“There’s McGonagall, I wonder why she looks so gloomy? That’s never a good sign” Ginny Weasley prodded a finger in Neville Longbottom’s side to get his attention. It wasn’t necessary, Neville was already eyeing the teacher’s table.

  
“Why isn’t she sitting in the headmaster’s seat?” he said. “She was headmistress in command after Dumbledore, wasn’t she?”

  
The atmosphere in the Great Hall wasn’t as it usually were during the start of term feast. The only table that was chatting and eating was Slytherin’s. The other tables was looking at the new teachers and especially the new headmaster. Neville, Ginny and Seamus couldn’t believe their eyes when they first saw Snape as headmaster. With Dumbledore dead and Harry, Hermione and Ron missing, Hogwarts didn’t feel as safe as it used to. They all were thinking about what Harry would do if he was there, would he stand up to the Carrows, the newly appointed teachers seated next to Professor McGonagall, and Snape. 

  
“How in Merlin’s name did  _ he _ become headmaster?” said Neville.

  
“Didn't you hear? Me mum said there’s a rumour that You-Know-Who has taken over the Ministry of Magic” said Seamus Finnigan from across the table.

  
“‘s that why Snape is headmaster? It would explain why Alecto and Amycus Carrow are doing here, gran told me that they were in You-Know-Who’s inner circle” said Neville.

  
“‘s no point in playing guessing games, right? Look it’s time for Snape to speak” said Seamus.

The Great Hall grew quiet, even Slytherin stopped talking and changed their focus from each other to the teacher’s table. Neville looked nervously at Seamus and Ginny. Neville’s heart beat rose when Snape walked over to the podium. The pale man opened his mouth to speak.

“There will be some changes to Hogwarts this year. To open up new avenues, and explore all facets of magic, Amycus Carrow will lead you in Dark Arts”, a murmur broke out through all four tables, almost drowning what Snape said next, “and Alecto Carrow will take over Muggle Studies from Professor Burbage. They are very diligent and ambitious so treat them with the respect they deserve.”

The feast brought upon a tense feeling and lead to a lot of discussion in the Gryffindor boys’ dormitory that night. Long past midnight they finally went to bed, heads weary and heavy with thoughts. What was going to happen next?

Already next morning their questions got answered, as they all noted that Muggle Studies had been inserted into their schedules, disregarding whether they had chosen the subject or not. And so, the tense feeling still latching on to Neville and his classmates, they headed down to the dungeons for their first lesson with Alecto Carrow. Inside the classroom, they were faced with new books, lying on their desks.  _ Muggles and How To Deal With Them, A study in anti-muggle pesticides _ by Manav Atgas.

Neville was completely stunned. The lesson hadn’t even begun and their chests were already growing with hate towards their new professor... And it didn’t get better during the lesson. Alecto Carrow greeted them all and asked all muggleborn and half-bloods to raise their hands, after which they were dismissed to the back of the classroom, as Alecto proudly stated that only pureblood witches and wizards were going to have easy access to what she called “real education”.

After the lesson ended, after what seemed like an eternity, Neville met up with Luna and Ginny in the courtyard.

“How was the lesson with Alecto?” said Luna.

  
“Terrible, He explained how dirty muggles are, he also explained that muggles are stupid and that they drove wizards into hiding by being vicious towards them.” said Neville.

  
“That’s complete bollocks!” Ginny said, exasperated. “Although it’s not much different to what happened in Dark Arts today. That Carrow-man is a real sadist. He loved talking down to us…”

  
“But what happened to your face Neville?” said Luna, aloof as usual.

“I couldn't take her false accusations, so I asked Alecto how much muggle blood she and her brother had in them” said Neville. 

  
“Really clever Neville. said Luna, a smile wavering on her pale lips..

Neville felt good after talking with Luna and Ginny. The scars on Neville's face made him a feel proud for standing up to Alecto, but the tension in Hogwarts was still rising. Neville, Luna and Ginny felt it too but wasn’t all to keen on admitting to themselves that real danger had infiltrated Hogwarts. That night, Neville had trouble falling asleep. He couldn’t stop thinking what Harry would have done if he was there. He had no idea where Harry, Hermione or Ron were and he was scared that something bad would happen to them. He was sure that nothing bad had happened to them, yet, since He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named surely would have made sure to tell the whole world by then... Neville began to think about Dumbledore, when he was headmaster there were no problems at Hogwarts. Neville realized that something had to happen before everything spiraled completely out of control. He needed to talk to Ginny and Luna first thing tomorrow. 

“ Neville, did you get any sleep last night? You look tired” said Ginny asked him at breakfast. Luna had left the Ravenclaw table and took the empty seat next to Neville.

  
“ I can’t sleep, we are trapped at Hogwarts, we don’t know where Harry is and we keep acting like everything’s gonna be fine.” said Neville. 

  
“What do you mean Neville? Don’t do anything stupid.” said Ginny

  
“We can’t have it like this, something has to happen! Do you s’ppose Harry would’ve just sat down and been silent if he’d been here. I can’t honestly be the only one to feel this way” said Neville.

  
“ Did something happen to you? We can’t stand up to Professor Snape. We will get expelled from Hogwarts” Ginny insisted.

“It doesn’t matter if we get expelled!” Neville exclaimed. “If we don’t get expelled, we’ll probably die here! I can’t just sit down and wait for Harry to come save is. ‘s not going to happen!”

  
“Then what do you suggest?” Luna asked, a twinkle in her eyes suggesting that she already knew what Neville was on to.

  
“I’mma gather Dumbledore’s Army. We’re the only ones who can stand up to Snape’s tyranny!” 


	2. The Resistance - Daniel

Whether or not it was said in the open, he knew that they all wished for things to become better. Perhaps he was the one who wished for it most of all. 

 

Several weeks had passed since Neville spoke to the others about the current situation at Hogwarts. In the meantime, he had been busy. Whenever the opportunity would arise, Neville would sneak out, even during curfew hours, and would paint large written messages along the brick walls outside Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff, and Gryffindor’s common room. In glowing letters, invisible to those who are over the age of 17, Neville had written: 

_ The boy who lived is out there, fighting. Why shouldn’t we? We have already won - D.A. _

 

Although Filch would soon find out these signs that were left on the walls, it would be too late because seemingly all who passed from their dormitories to class had seen the message. The question was who had created it? The word started to get around, and eventually it found t their way to Neville and the others.

 

At day time, Neville decided to openly refuse to cooperate during both both Muggle Studies and Dark Arts. During one of their lessons, he decided to let down a constipation sensation spearmint which forced Amycus to frantically search for one of the closest wash closets. However, on that day, most toilets on that floor and the ones below conveniently went out of order exactly at that time. 

 

Although his actions led to severe detention and punishment for involvement in disturbance of education, he found the results outweighed the costs greatly. He had noticed that he could take great amount of disciplinary beatings, and the Carrows were well aware that they could not start delivering permanent solutions to the problem by killing students. More had started to openly question the Carrows’s methods too.

 

In the great hall, more dim and dark than under Dumbledore’s rule, Ginny and Neville sat down at the Gryffindor table, talking over dinner while they made sure not to be heard by the wrong people. 

 

“How can we go forward, Neville?” Ginny asked while she kept an open eye for either on of the Carrows or Snape.

 

“Well, we can’t just go out with guns blazing in the wide open,” Neville replied. “Drawing too much attention puts only more students in greater trouble than what we already want”. 

 

“You’re right. But what can we do that we haven’t already tried?”

 

It took a moment for Neville to give an appropriate answer. In truth, he usually found himself listening to others who provided solutions to problems. However, in this moment, during the circumstances as they were, he answered in a way that caught him by surprise. In his own words, he felt courage. “Like I said, I went and talked to some of the old members of D.A and even rallied up some new to our cause. It’s not an army, but at least it’s a start. We need to bring back hope and safety to the school, I said. Ever since last year, no one dares to even utter anything that would recall good memories from Dumbledore’s time at Hogwarts, because they fear it’ll only lead to more suffering. But we may not always know what will happen through our actions. Regardless of the danger, Harry’s still out there, fighting, as he always has, and he’s on his way here. I think everything will be settled here. If he is out there doing what he can to stop You-Know-Who, why shouldn’t we?

 

“So what do you suggest we do next, Neville? How can we go against the Carrows and Snape if we have mandatory classes that we need to attend, and students either disappear or become too undermined now that Amycus instructs actual torture in Dark Arts?”

 

“But what about the Room of Requirement? I have collected clues about where the room could be located on the seventh floor. We could use it again like we did two years ago when D.A was first formed. If we can somehow stall the Carrows and their classes more, find the room, keep recruiting and locating the missing students, we might be able to build something that resembles a resistance.

 

“It would be a great resource for us if we were to find the room, but it is a big if. Okay, let us say we would find it eventually, how are we going to have time to look for it in the first place, while we are busy going between classes and have curfew hours?

 

“I say we grab the bull by the horns and go for the Carrows”.

 

As Ginny listened to Neville more and more, Ginny came up with a mischievous, yet justified idea. “How about this. There is a crate of literature for Muggle Studies coming in tomorrow morning”.

 

“Really? Where and from whom did you hear that?”

 

“Yes. Just yesterday, when I left Muggle Studies, I overheard Hagrid talking to Alecto about a large delivery of crates. Hagrid will oversee them tomorrow morning while everyone is eating breakfast at The Great Hall. He seemed reluctant to take orders from a Death-Eater, but like the rest of the teachers that remained after Dumbledore’s fall, he simply kept his thoughts of distaste to himself.”

 

“That sounds promising. Hagrid also wouldn’t get the blame since he would only transport the crates to the Carrows’ office. Okay, we get the books. what happens then? We burn them?” said Neville.

 

“That might cause notice to what we are doing, and then we might as well knock on the Carrows’ door ourselves. Perhaps we can turn the books into flesh-eating plants or something? You are considered an asset by Professor Sprout, right? You even got to borrow her collection of rare books about magical plants! Perhaps there is something we could use.”

 

Neville made an effort to think back to his extensive readings. “Hmm… Now when you mention it, Sprout did have one book that caught my interest back during my second year. It’s called  _ Herbology and Transfiguration: From Flora to Fauna and Back _ and contained a spell that could turn even small objects into vines of Devil’ Snare. I wrote it down and learnt it by heart to get back at Malfoy for stealing my Remembrall. Though I couldn’t pronounce the spell back then, I am more than willing to try it now. We should use that one!

 

“Ah, that would be so much fun!” said Ginny, making more than a few heads turn in their direction due to her excitement. After that, both she and Neville kept their volume to a minimum. “Imagine Carrow all blue-faced and busy being strangled by plants inside the teacher’s office. It would take a serious amount of pyromancy spells to get rid of the vines”.

 

“If we manage to do that, Alecto will be too busy to lecture us about Muggles. It will leave us with time to find the room. I knew Herbology had a prominent role in the Wizarding world. Okay, I say we go by Luna and Michael Corner to tell them about our plan. They could take over working on how to recruit new members discreetly, and also find out about the missing students. Smalls steps at a time.”

 

As told, the shipment of books had arrived at the train station. Prior to the delivery, Ginny and Neville decided that it would be best to keep their plan a secret in order to prevent Hagrid from having any knowledge of their plan.

 

The very next morning, strained sounds of what could resemble a gasp for air came from the office of Alecto Carrow. She had opened the crates of books that had been instructed to be delivered directly to her, but to her surprise, the content was lashing out at her. Her brother, Amycus Carrow, heard her forceful attempts to escape the vines of Devil’s Snare, but it only made the tentacles grasp tighter and tighter. Amycus fired off blazing spells to burn off the vines from his sister’s blue body, but soon he too became restricted. The vines spread and covered the room, and it took several spells, curses and gasps for air before the plants were subdued. 

 

However, during that event and as the majority of students were enjoying their recently found leisure time, Neville and Ginny climbed the moving stairs to explore the seventh floor for the Room of Requirements, while Luna, Michael Corner and Anthony Goldstein made a substantial effort to assemble their former group, recruit new to their cause, and locate the missing students. Things were in motions.

 

***

Weeks had gone by, and a resistance had manifested. More students started to refuse any class participation in both Muggle Studies and Dark Arts. The course literature, materials and classes were in one way or another sabotaged by the acts of the D.A. As a consequence of these actions, it left Ginny, Luna, Michael Corner and Neville enough time to settle things in the Room of Requirement. 

 

They had put in great efforts along the way. However, things took a bad turn after the end of Halloween. Rumours went about a first year Gryffindor, Veronika Steadfast, who was missing. Days passed without anything concrete about where, but Michael Corner finally caught the Carrows discussing a “troublemaker” they kept for detention in the dungeons; he then returned to the others and told about what he heard. 

 

“I wanna go down there,” added Michael. “I’ve got a clear understanding of the different passages, so it is at least worth a try”.

 

“Michael, what if Filch or the Carrows catch you?” replied Ginny.

 

“Then I will do my best to hide. Think about it. A first year is down there because of our initiative. We shouldn’t leave anybody behind if we don’t have to”.

 

“Then I’ll follow you,” stated Neville. “You are not alone, and neither is Veronika. We go down tonight; that way no one expects students to walk around during curfew”.

 

“Thank you, Neville.”

 

“We’ve got each other’s backs”.

 

***

  
  


Around midnight, Michael and Neville managed to find Veronika Steadfast in one of the obsolete classrooms in the dungeons. She was pale and her robes were bloodstained, a sprained ankle, and seemed mentally distanced. Neville wrapped his own cloak around her shoulders and supported her weight.

 

“ _ Lumos”,  _ Michael whispered, igniting a small orb of light at the end of his wand.

 

Guided by Michael in the vast collection of corridors, Neville and the others found their way back to the small, secret passage just outside the office of Professor Slughorn. Veronika entered first, then Neville while Michael kept a lookout. 

 

Neville and Veronika had crawled a good distance before Neville turned his head back towards Michael.

 

“Come on. We made it, Michael!” said Neville from inside the passage.

 

There was no answer. The gap in the wall had been closed, causing it to become dark. Michael was gone.

 

***

 

The next day, Neville and the others were taken aback. Michael Corner had been assigned to the hospital wing, covered in laceration scars on over forty percent of his body.

 

“It is a shame what happened to the Corner boy, but perhaps he had it coming. The dungeons can be a dangerous if you become lost, especially after curfew”, had Amycus Carrow scowled.

 

That comment of Michael Corner’s visit to the hospital pushed many into passiveness once more. However, Neville left another temporary message outside of the common rooms:

 

_ A war is not one but many battles; we have already won. _


	3. The Capture - Filip

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: This chapter is depicting graphic violence

It was just Neville now. He couldn’t blame the others for not coming. Not after what they did to Michael. With Ginny gone right after Luna he’d been left to lead them, and it had brought Michael pain to the point of bursting. He’d never spoiled or given anything away, no matter how bad they had wailed on him. After that, Neville had sat next to Michael in the hospital wing, telling him that he was sorry and his sacrifice for D.A had been invaluable. He had faced down two death eaters, suffered at their whim and not for spilled anything.

Michael had seemed to appreciate that as far little he could manage to communicate, and Neville had put on a brave face that felt far more like a façade than it had for the past six months. When the Carrows broke Michael, Neville’s confidence broke with him. Not in the other D.A members. Not in Harry and the others, but in himself. In the end, he was the failed Longbottom, so it was only reasonable that he would do this on his own.

He crept the hallways in dark silence. He had a brief run in with two ghosts who regarded him first spiteful curiosity, until they’d recognize him, and with a casual shrug of their shoulders they had turned to discuss an aptly empty painting. This was common occurrences now. The ghosts where about as impressed with the deputy headmaster and headmistress as the rest of the school, and they had taken to turn a blind eye to any resistance activity.

There was movement up ahead. From some blind crook in the wall Filch stepped out into the hallway. Neville hesitated and Filch watched him with a noticeable lack of his usual cruel mirth. The old caretaker always was in a giddy when there was a student to be caught breaking rules, but what alarmed Neville even more than usual was his oddly apathic face. Something shuffled behind him, and Neville realised he’d been snuck up on. Nobody had snuck up on him for months.

The shrill voice behind him had a familiar wheeze and was ecstatic. “Stupefy!”

****

Neville awoke to the sound of a slow drop and a cold, earthy smell, reminding him of a charnel house. He had been here before; strapped to a hard-oak chair. There were claw marks in the chair arms and a moisture against his palms where unfortunate victims had cried blood, sweat and tears. He blinked once and could make out the chains hanging from the walls opposite to him. These were the dungeons.

He could hear those same shuffling steps and it became clear to him. Alecto Carrow was with him in her little den of avarice. They’d picked him at night, and he should’ve known better. That was why Filch had seemed so apathetic, almost uncomfortable. For all his bitterness and loathing for the students of Hogwarts, Filch, much like everyone else, did not seem to fancy the Carrows much. There was a reputed rumour of Filch being a squib, and Neville could see the Carrows in all their single-minded quest for pure blooded supremacy to easily treat Filch as some sort of abominable anomaly. Something to be used, scuffed and pushed. They’d brought him along because of how well he knew the castle, and by any stretch of the imagination, they’d probably brought him to carry Neville.

“Longbottom,” Alecto wheezed and came into vision. Her squarish face and oddly hunched shoulders. She was smiling. In the eerie light of the dungeons, she always reminded Neville of a plump version of the stuffed vulture on Gran’s hat.

“Out after curfew,” she wheezed again. Her wand played between her fingers.

Neville gave up a reclined sigh, putting more act than sincerity in appearing bored with the situation. It had some of the satisfactory reaction he was hoping for. Alecto’s smirk traded places with a sneer.

The wand traced in front of his face. “A student out after curfew. Tsk, tsk, tsk.”

“’S what it is, I s’pose.” Neville attempted a shrug.

“A school has rules, Longbottom,” Alecto replied, and the wand bounced on his nose four times, almost playfully.

“’S only because what you did to Michael,” Neville spat back.

“Corner was not passing curfew,” Alecto sneered through her teeth. “Corner was skulking in the professors’ storage rooms. Putting up vile graffiti and torching school materials.”

“That’s the lie you’re using for why you put him in the hospital wing?”

The wand pushed against his cheek, up to his nose and into the crevice between the bridge and eye. “Careful, Longbottom. Corner had an accident after his just  _ desserts _ . You might see things differently if you’d lose an eye for it.”

Neville’s heartbeat jumped and despite himself, he felt a trickle of sweat travel down to the tip of his nose. A spot started to form in his vision as the shaft was pushed ever so slightly. He tried to move his head back, but Alecto followed him.

“Corner had an accident, on his way from detention.  _ Do you understand? _ ”

Neville grit his teeth. “Yes…”

Alector removed the wand, smiling jovially. Out of all her wicked expressions, that one was worst.

“He had an accident,” Neville said. “Should’ve been me. Shouldn’t ‘ve suffered you insane maniacs! You tortured an eleven-year-old! And for trying to save the kid, you put Michael in the hospital wing!”

“ _ Crucio.” _

Neville knew it was coming even before he finished his sentence. The pain was bright and white. It did not bite into his skin or make his muscles ache. It was beyond all of that. There was no remedy imaginable for the pain. It burrowed into his soul and tried to rip apart his very being. Then it stopped, and his tense body relaxed. His throat was sore, and he realised he’d been screaming.

There was a slow, silent moment. Neville opened his eyes, “you knew I would have to go n’ see him… You knew…”

“This is  _ my _ school, Longbottom. I know everything.”

“You didn’t send him home. You didn’t let him. You put him in the wing. You knew I’d have to go ‘n see him.”

“Conspiring with dissidents, Longbottom. You’ve been around too many mudbloods and half-breeds. It has addled your mind. You’d risk curfew to only pass a few more hours with a rebellious wretch like Corner.”

“You needn’t have,” Neville said. “You needn’t have tortured him. I was the one that gave him the go ahead.”

“We know you did,” Alecto purred. She seemed youthful, almost giddy like a child. She always did after handing out her daily dosage of pain.

“And if I hadn’t overstayed at Corner? ‘S a bit of a far-fetched plan.”

“Oh, we’d find some other way,” Alecto leaned close to him and he could feel her breath, rancid and invasive. “We’d pick off your acolytes one by one until you’d come stumbling alone through the night. We can also play the mind games, Longbottom.”

“I seriously doubt that,” Neville muttered.

“Insolent-“

“Longbottom, a pleasure!” Amycus visibly tried to sweep into the room in his most Snape-like fashion, failing miserably due to his short, porcine build. “I see you and my sister is getting along.”

“Two’s a date, three makes a party, eh?” Neville said.

“Always the gob on you, Longbottom. It could be used for good.”

Alecto looked at her brother like he’d just sprouted a second head. Contrary to what might’ve been assumed from their positions at Hogwarts, Alecto was generally considered the sly one. Amycus, apart from the usual superiority rubbish, could be down right daft. Which ironically stood in contrast to his frightening Dark Arts capabilities. Neville supposed that was why he had such kindred spirits in Crabbe and Goyle, morons that they were. Even fools-gold had its shine.

“My gob? Used for good things? Yeah, mate, the feelin’ ain’t mutual.”

Amycus gave his sister a tired glance. “Nothing, then?”

“I haven’t gotten to that part,” Alecto replied, her wand wandering impatiently between her fingers.

“And here I thought you two were just going to try and pass the time,” Neville offered with another sigh. It had worked well all year to seem more determined than he felt, and at some point, he supposed, he had been. Right now, it was just not letting them having the satisfaction.

“Well, Longbottom, it occurs to us that we two parties needn’t be enemies”, Amycus said.

“Again. Not mutual.”

“You’re pureblooded… lad.” Alecto looked like she’d been forced down a spoon of vinegar when she said it. Trying to be ‘friendly’ seemed to be an anathema to her. “You are of our kind of mind. All this  _ resistance  _ rubbish. Stop it, and we will be far gentler on you. In fact, your cooperation would be rewarded.”

Neville let out a grunt. “That’s rich, coming from someone who just used an unforgivable curse just a moment ago.”

Alecto waved her wand in the air. “Wishy washy details, Longbottom. We can be friends.”

“We seriously cannot. If it were down to me, I’d rather have muggle parents just to scorn you gits, and how amazingly inept you are. Worst death eaters I’ve ever seen. Children. You’re trying to put down a rebellion run by children.”

“So you admit it?” Amycus screeched and shoved his sister to the side. He stared at Neville with all the mad intent he could muster. “You just admitted it?”

“I admitted what?”

“The rebellion. You’re leading your so-called Dumbledore’s Army.”

The natural response was to deny it as always before but something in the back of his mind stopped him. Deny it as the open lie it was, and they would go after any other student. He could not let there be any more Michael Corners. He was alone now, and all responsibility was his.

“I am not.”

The Carrows looked at each other. Probably they’d realised the same as Neville.

“What’re you playing at, Longbottom?” Alecto asked, nudging her brother to the side. “We can do away with the false pretences.”

“We really could, couldn’t we? I’ll tell you my little secret if you admit you’re Death Eaters.” Another open secret.

“Assuming that we were,” Alecto said, his wand dangerously playing in front of Neville’s eye again, “just imagine how carefully you would have to tread, kid.”

“You got your marks”, Neville inclined them both with a nod. “I’ll show you mine if you show me yours.”

The Carrows shared another frustrated glance.

“Or we could just bleed it out of you,” Alecto said tiredly.

“Crucio didn’t work, now did it?” Neville taunted.

“That’s because you can’t talk when you’re busy screaming your throat sore,” Alecto wheezed in a familiar fashion. She swept her wand softly through the air like a conductor. “ _ Diffindo. _ ”

The cut was clean, exact and well-practiced. It did not hurt at first, but it came, slowly as blood started to pool up from the finger length gash on the back of Neville’s hand. He would have liked to scream, but he suckered it in. He would never give the sadist the satisfaction.

“So, Longbottom. You just tell us who’s the leader, or admit it’s you, and we can get this ghastly business over with.” Alecto was pacing back and forth. Her brother was looking at Neville from over her shoulder, a sickeningly mirthful grin on his flabby face.

Neville glared back the Carrows defiant as ever.

“ _ Diffindo. _ ”

Cloth tore over his shoulder and a red stain started to spread down over his chest.

“ _ Diffindo.”  _ The wand flick was uneven.

Zig-zagging up to his collar bone his skin ripped in stringy shreds. It was his first defeat. He let a hoarse cry escape him and Alecto let out a soft purr. The cuts were not deep, but they hurt. Even Neville knew they couldn’t kill him outright. They would no-

A long piece of thin wood was shoved directly into the open gap in his shoulder. Alecto pushed gently, gently her wand deeper and deeper into his flesh. “Wonder what happens if… It were to cut now?” She sounded ecstatic in all the wrong ways.

“Why don’t you find out?” Neville glared up at her, speaking through gritted teeth.

“That  _ gob,  _ Longbottom.” Alecto sighed, shoved her wand up in his face and wheezed out another “ _ Diffindo.” _

The soft flesh where the right side of his lips met tore. With healer-like precision the shallow cut travelled from his mouth corner up his cheek. He tasted the warm coppery taste, gathered it into his mouth a and attempted to spit it at Alecto, but unceremoniously soiled his knees instead.

The Carrow sister let out a shrill laugh. “Not bloody enough, boy? Going to ruin your robes. Cauterize him for me, will you, Amycus?”

“Can’t get to his wounds. Cloth in the way,” Amycus grunted and got his wand out absentmindedly.

“You never learned non-vocal spellcasting, Carrow? ‘s that why you keep telling me? Or you just like the power of letting your subjects now how sickeningly inventive you are?”

In reply Alecto voicelessly flicked her wand and another cut tore open over Neville’s chest. It took far more clothing than skin this time, though that was a small comfort. There was a worrisome notion to how a witch or wizard could come to use everyday spells meant for everyday recreation into torture tools.

The cloth of his torn robe left his torn skin bare and Amycus took his sister’s place. The wand was as stubby and brutish as the man. From its tip a small spark ignited, and a sharp gout of flame combusted, just traveling up to where he held his hand. Neville watched it in uncomfortable awe. They all knew the Carrows were death eaters. Everybody had seen dark arts by now, but it was the eerie grace that a wicked, lumpen thing like Amycus would control the fire. From the sizzling flame a serpent not longer than a foot took shape. It coiled viciously inches from Amycus hand, spiralling between wand and master’s flesh. With a flick the fiendfyre darted over Neville’s shoulder, stroking ever so slightly where his skin had torn. And Neville screamed. He screamed louder than he had in a long time. Not only from pain but the desecration of his body. The smell invading his nose; the smell of blistering skin getting burned to a sloppy crisp. Unlike his sister, Amycus did not take any great pleasure in torture. He was never sickened by it either. He just treated it with casual indifference – the same casual indifference he displayed as he stepped back to observe his work.

“I am getting good at this,” he said.

Neville breathed heavily, a string of phlegm and blood tracing down his chin. “This… all this… for what?”

“You just say the words, and it’ll end, Longbottom,” Alecto was almost pleading. “You know as well as we do, the hag McGonagall and her ilk do not care for the  _ true cause _ , for the good we try to do. If you admit it being a leader of this uprising, we can put it down. Say it and you’ve made the admission of guilt sincere.” She held out a small object, silver and copper in colour like a small music box. “We’ll record your voice. Speak clear, boy, and the other teachers will have to rally behind us, our claim strengthening… But you know. You don’t have to be an enemy of ours. Speak now, and we will mend your wounds.”

Neville looked at the box. “I just… I just have to say it into that thing?”

“Yes.” Alecto held it up to Neville’s face.

“And…what will I get in return?”

“You’re pure of blood. There are places in our order that recognizes that worth. Just speak, and we can see to it that you’re rewarded.”

“By… The Dark Lord?”

A silent whisper parted the Carrow sister’s lips. “ _ Yes _ .”

“I am… I am the leader…”

“Say it. You’re the leader of what?” Alecto leaned in close. “Who are the other members, Longbottom. Tell us. Tell us all of it. It can be over.”

“In Diagon Alley, there’s a shop. Eeylops Owl Emporium.”

Alecto frowned. “What of it?”

“There,” Neville straightened his neck. “I am the leader of the board there.” He gathered up the remaining saliva and blood in his mouth and sent the brown loogy into the death eater’s eye. “You got something in your face there. ‘S an improvement.”

Then the world went white and cutting stark. A soul sucking chill and hot pokers invaded every part of Neville’s body. The intensity of the Cruciatus Curse was far beyond anything he had ever experienced. His mind drifted off, trying to escape the pain that wrecked every fibre of his being. A cascading flash of colours as pain receptors went on an all time high. A bright light of black that blinded and moulded his world into a pit of suffering laden with screams of torture. From the back of his mind, somewhere lost in the pained madness he knew his vocal chord was close on bursting. He cried more wildly than ever before. It ripped his throat, not that he felt it. The other pain was too invasive to even register that he was screaming his throat literally bloody. It was the choking taste that told him.

Then, in the torrents a vision emerged. A sight of a woman with a round face and white hair. She held out a hand and a voiceless promise of a place where there was no pain. His mother offered him the same respite that she had taken all those years ago. Neville wanted to take her hand and flee. Just lose it all; the war, the struggle, the resistance, the pain. Just escape and never return. Let the Carrows win.

Let the Carrows win.

Neville forced an eye open, still screaming. For aught else to do, he screamed his defiance at Alecto and she visibly paled with wand still pointing at him. He roared his pain at her. Before it all was over, he would resist them all, like Harry had done. He would rally the army and grind them into dust. Send them all to Azkaban, and if that was not enough, he would  _ kill them all. _

Then it ended. The pressing pain left his body sore from spasming muscles. His vision swam and the Carrows sauntered off to somewhere out of his vision. Time was fleeting. He did not know where they were or what they were doing nor for how long they were gone. It might’ve been a minute or an hour, but eventually, Amycus appeared in front of him.

The stubby wand was raised again at him. “ _ Stupefy.” _

And it was all dark again.

***

Alecto paced back and forth in frustration. Her brother sat in the empty chair, not showing a care for the sweat and blood left after Longbottom. She felt her brother’s gaze follow her, and she cursed to herself. The boy was leaving them less and less choices. So stubborn, impressively so, and she had to admit to his persistence. Alecto, for one, could overlook that he was a pureblood. It would be easier to just kill him, but there were powers at play that held her from that. And it would look bad, taking into consideration the Muggle Studies and the re-indoctrination of the  _ new future’s _ youth. A pureblood could not be found dead. At least not yet.

“So that didn’t work,” Amycus said, scratching some dried blood from under his nail.

“You’re a fount of wisdom, brother,” Alecto snapped back. “Dumbledore’s Army. Dumbledore’s Rabble.”

“Think we might’ve gone to far on the Corner boy?”

Alecto swivelled. “The corner boy?”

Amycus nodded. “That was his name. Corner.”

“Does it even matter?” Alecto sighed. “Half-blood had it coming.”

“I ain’t arguing that, sis, but I think Longbottom is unmovable now.”

“You might be right.” Alecto hesitated for a moment. There had been a silence to the revolts since they caught that Corner. It had been reigned in, by Longbottom no doubt, but judging by his defiance, Alecto was not too sure he had been perturbed by his henchmen. She remembered his rage, just thirty minutes ago, before Filch had sauntered of with his listless body. Neville Longbottom had conviction, and conviction could not be moved easily. Some small voice in the back of her mind registered that she should feel a sense of admiration for a teenager with such tenacity, but she forced it back to that corner where she hid any other form of guilt. She had learned long ago how easy it was to live with yourself if you just locked away your conscience. That was how you grew strong; action first, empathy last.

The best way to get at Longbottom was to go after his rabble, and since Corner, that had died down. They could not force a confession from him, so the solutions were wearing thin. She stopped suddenly.

“He has a grandmother, does he not?”

Amycus looked up at her from his seat. “Corner?”

“Longbottom. A semi-famous witch. A familial old hag past her prime, no?”

“I think so, yes…”

“Then we’ll send word to the others, and send a  _ delegation _ her way,” Alecto said. A smile formed as smoothly as the plan. It was so obvious. An old woman like her would be easy. If you can’t target friends, target family.

“And if that ain’t working?” Amycus asked.

Alecto sighed again and shrugged with a casual indifference so common to their family. “Well, then we’ll just kill him instead.”


	4. The Spark - Emma

It felt as though the note in Neville’s pocket was burning through his robes. It wasn’t, of course, but it felt like it. The message had reached Neville the day before, during breakfast. Neville had had a couple of unusually calm days, something he hadn’t experienced in quite some time, probably only due to him recovering in Madame Pomfrey’s care. That was when he noticed the familiar brown barn owl through the usual stream of owls during morning delivery. He immediately recognized it as Ulysses, his grandmother’s owl. Ulysses fluttered down on the table in front of Neville, keeping a very solemn expression as they locked eyes. Neville’s hand shook slightly as he untangled the note from Ulysses leg, and when he finally succeeded the barn owl took off, leaving Neville in even more confusion. The note, however, replaced Neville’s confusion with fear.

 

_ Death Eaters at the house. Do not respond to this, I will be fine. You are your parent’s son, I am very proud of you. _

_ A.L _

 

A.L, Augusta Longbottom, his gran. After a couple of minutes of solemnly staring down at the note, re-reading it numerous times, Neville began to act quickly. He folded the letter carefully and shoved it in his breast-pocket, before leaving the Great Hall with a quick glance up the teacher’s podium. Alecto Carrow was grinning nastily.

 

His gran thought Neville to be his parent’s son. The Death Eaters had been after her. They had probably under-estimated her, though. There was a lot to say about Augusta Longbottom, but she was never going to lay down without a fight. Neither was Neville. Still, there was a lot to process and Neville almost ran straight past the tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy before he realized where he were. The left corridor of the seventh floor was, as always, eerily empty, Neville being the only one there. He took to a halt, facing the tapestry. He thought long and hard for a while. He only had one shot at setting this up. Give or take a few more minutes, and the Carrows would be on his tail. This needed to work first-try.

“I need… a safe place”, he said quietly to himself, before realising that a safe place just wouldn’t cut it. He took a moment to rethink and re-phrase his request.

“I need a place where the Carrows and their folks won’t find us.”

With his request echoing multiple times in his mind, Neville began to walk. He passed the tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy, made a U-turn at the end of the hallway and walked back. After his third time passing old Barnabas, a familiar whooshing sound signalled that Neville had succeeded. He turned around, and couldn’t help but to crack a grin when the wall opposite now wasn’t a wall anymore. It was a door. With his gran’s note burning in his pocket, and the grin still stuck on his face, he pushed the doors open. The room unfolding in front of him was very simple, but exactly what Neville needed. A hammock was strung between two columns, and that was about it. 

“I s’ppose you only get exactly what you ask for”, Neville said quietly to himself. 

 

Neville wasn’t alone for long. It only took a day or two before Michael Corner and Anthony Goldstein joined him, their faces beaten and badly scarred. Dean Thomas and Seamus Finnegan came soon after, along with both Padma and Parvati Patil. The one hammock that was strung between the columns multiplied, and even a proper bathroom was set up when Parvati complained about their current situation.

“It takes a female mind to correct some things”, Parvati said contently. Female mind or not, it took the group a couple of days to realize that slipping out of the room and sneaking down to the kitchen for food was no longer cutting it. The Carrow’s had realized that the amount of students disappearing could only mean one thing, and they were now guarding the corridors more heavily than before. The Room of Requirement couldn’t provide them with food, as it was the first of five Principal Exceptions to Gamp’s Law of Elementary Transfiguration. Neville had a vague memory of Hermione telling him this a couple of years earlier. This, however, wasn’t a problem for too long, as one day when Seamus was complaining louder than ever about the lack of food, a painting appeared on the rooms west-most wall. This painting proved to be a hidden pathway, picturing a beautiful young girl stretching her hand and waving for them to follow her. Neville explored the path along with Seamus and Dean, and the three of them were full of glee to discover that it lead to The Hog’s Head, one of the pubs down in Hogsmeade. The pub’s owner, a scruffy old man named Aberforth, seemed to take their sudden appearance in quite the stride, only asking if they were from Hogwarts, before offering to provide them with food. Neville got the feeling that there was more to Aberforth than he told them.

 

Leading up to the end of April, their numbers multiplied significantly, and soon twenty of them were grouped up in the Room of Requirement. The Room outdid itself everytime someone new arrived, creating new bunk beds and also even giving them some of the practice targets from two years ago, enabling Dumbledore’s Army to keep preparing for what they all was sure of was an oncoming battle. This also meant that Neville was re-appointed acting leader of the rebellion, Seamus volunteering as his second-in-command. Together they did what they could, helping first- and second-year students to reach the Hog’s Head and from there, floo home to their parents, as well as practicing what they hadn’t been able to practice for quite some time, Defence Against the Dark Arts. Neville tried to shoulder the role which Harry had left for him. Even though it was hard, Neville took pride in seeing the other students look up to him, admiring him. It filled him with the courage he needed to go on.

 

Their nightly practice was interrupted by a sharp shriek, coming from Hogsmeade. Neville, who’d just helped Dennis Creevey disarm his brother Colin, locked eyes with Seamus across the room. They all knew about the Caterwauling Charm that had been put upon Hogsmeade to keep people inside during curfew, but this was the first time they actually had heard someone activate it. Seamus opened his mouth to speak, but his jaw locked and his mouth formed an ‘o’, his gaze averted from Neville’s and caught onto the painting. Neville spun around, his expression mimicking Seamus’s as he saw Adriana waving eagerly to him. Aberforth had introduced her a couple of days earlier.

“What’s Ab wanting?” Dean Thomas said, quickly joining Neville’s side. Neville shrugged.

“Dunno. I s’ppose we better find out, right?”

“You go, Nev”, Seamus said gleefully. “Ab’s not fond of me anyway. I’ll keep this herd on their feet.”

Neville nodded, shifted his gaze to look out over the others. They all looked very interested and curious in what Aberforth could want to tell them during this late hour. In addition, they were all very curious in what had triggered the Caterwauling Charm down in Hogsmeade. Something in the back of Neville’s head was surfacing, but he didn’t want to jump to conclusions just yet. Instead, he solemnly nodded towards his school mates, before stepping right into the painting, joining Adriana for the five minute walk down towards Hog’s Head.

 

Adriana didn’t speak, at least not when Neville had been around, either way. She just smiled a mysterious, yet very familiar, smile, and her blue eyes twinkled in the dark passageway. Neville’s breath caught in his throat as the pathway began leading upwards, and he climbed the last slope with excitement growing in the pit of his stomach. He could now see the painting at the end of the pathway, and he could make out Aberforth’s large figure, as well as three others. He began moving faster and faster, and he could soon make out a girl with very bushy hair, a tall and gangly ginger-haired boy, and a bespectacled boy with a scar on his forehead, in the shape of a lightning bolt. Neville gave a roar of delight, and pushed his way through the painting and leapt of the mantelpiece.

“I knew you’d come!  _ I knew it, Harry! _ ”


End file.
